


like the moon (misses the warm kiss of the sun)

by funeralpyre



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Lighthouses, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, childhood best friends, will i ever get out of the pacific northwest in my writing?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funeralpyre/pseuds/funeralpyre
Summary: "see my face crowned in stars, please,see my body wreathed in light.Let me be more than my shaking hands."- Aislinn Rosea story of regret and absolution.
Kudos: 2





	1. chapter one.

**Author's Note:**

> while writing the culling, the song "darling" by casey played on my shuffle and I was struck with this story.
> 
> _"I'm sorry, darling, but I've been wasting my time rotting the teeth out of my head,  
>  trying hard to swallow the sweetest sentiments I can't express.  
> And I know that you told me to leave you alone,  
> But yours is still the only love I've ever known."_
> 
> it's entirely in ben's pov, and after the first chapter, they all have flashback moments at the beginning of each chapter.  
> while i don't have a posting schedule, i have over half of this done so it shouldn't be too long in between each update.  
> to the surprise of no one, i actually don't know anything about being a modern lighthouse keeper. research didn't really come up with much, but then i remembered it's fiction: it allows for a small detachment from reality.

The cool, damp breeze rustles Ben Solo’s hair as he walks down the long path from his apartment to the lighthouse. The sun, swiftly disappearing beyond the horizon, is the only illumination on the tall grass that weaves and bends around him. He looks back behind him, the small amount of residential buildings that surround the campus are lit up from top to bottom, the rest of his classmates doing normal college things: studying, reading, hanging out.

Ben had chosen this school for three reasons: one, because its architecture program. One of his heroes, Gaius Ackbar, was a professor at the college, and it had always been a dream of his to mentor under him. It was a difficult program to get into at the small liberal arts college, the placements available highly sought after by anyone who wanted to go into sustainable design.

Two, the lighthouse. His grandfather had owned one of the last manually operated lighthouses on the west coast, a thing that filled him with so much pride he made a point to teach Ben the ins and outs of lighthouse keeping. Over the years of being forced into lighthouse maintenance, he had grown fond of the work, a calm that settled his wandering mind came over him whenever he entered the stone walls. When he had heard that Sprise College had a lighthouse connected to it, a manually operated one at that, he knew it was fate.

Three, a certain girl who not only shares the same birthday as him, but shared everything with him up until the point he ruined his own life, is somewhere on this campus. He tries to forget about this third reason, but even after two years of radio silence, he realizes it’s pointless.

School kept him busy: between classes and the lighthouse, he rarely had time to think about how in a school so small it was odd that he never happened upon her, whether on campus or in classes.

He looks back again at the lit up rooms, wondering if she’s in one of them, looking at the lighthouse and thinking of him.

_Unlikely_ , he thinks to himself, miserable as he finally makes it to the steel door.

Sprise Point wasn’t a very popular destination for boats, which helped keep Ben’s sleep schedule regular. As long as the wicks were trimmed, the fuel was leveled off, and the windows and lenses were clean, if the fog hadn’t settled on the water he was free to work on what he pleased, dozing off to the lulling sound of the machinations.

The dawn is just kissing the tops of the trees when he rouses, his hair all over the place. He whispers a goodbye to the light, a superstition his grandfather had bred in him. The air is silent as he makes his way back to his rooms, a small building in the midway point between the residential halls and the lighthouse: one of the perks of having to spend your nights monitoring the ocean.

He stumbles into the main room, throwing his bag toward the kitchen table and missing by over a foot. The bag goes crashing down, random pencils and papers flopping out of the opening. He sighs but makes no move to pick up the stuff, blearily making his way to his bedroom. He looks at his alarm clock, the bright red screaming _7:12am_.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes out, wishing he had more than an hour or two to sleep in his own bed before class. He tosses and turns, trying to get comfortable, willing sleep to find him, but coming up empty. He growls low in his throat as he rips his blankets off and stomps into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

The wind has picked up since he came inside, cold and cutting as he locks up, the plumes of his breath billowing out into the air. He pulls his coat tighter against him, snuggling into its limited warmth on the winding path towards the dining hall.

He buys himself a black coffee and a muffin, pulling a book out of his bag to read. Just as he’s getting into the story, he feels a pair of eyes boring into his skull.He looks up just in time to catch the gaze of a girl at the coffee stand, a blush creeping on her cheeks. He smiles slightly to himself but settles back into his book.

A few minutes later he hears the distinct sound of the chair in front of him screeching against the linoleum floor, the table slightly shaking from the impact of a book bag plopping down on it. He peers over his book to see the same girl sitting in front of him looking at him through her lashes.

He looks at his watch, _8:42am_ , and he wonders how this girl can flirt so early in the day.

“Hi,” he says, the slight inflection of a question at the end.

She blushes again, the rosy tint blossoming on her light brown skin making her even more cute than she already is. “Are you here with someone?”

He furrows his eyebrows, looking around at the complete lack of people in the dining hall. “No?”

“Well, my friends and I thought you looked lonely, and—,” she hesitates, tucking her hair behind her ear. “We were wondering if you wanted to come sit with us.”

She’s brave, he has to give her that. It takes guts to come up to someone, to put yourself on the line like that with the idea that rejection could be right around the corner. It kills him to crush this girl’s spirit, even for a moment. He wishes he were any other way but the way he is.

“Sorry, I-I can't.”

Her face drops as she nods, not speaking a word before she picks up her bag and heads back to her friends. It makes him want to pull his hair out. He just knows the moment he tries anything, there’s only one face he’ll see in the back of his mind. 

He tries to go back to reading his book, but his thoughts gravitate towards painful memories, things he'd rather forget: the twinkle lights shimmering over the sea of people dressed to the nines, an almost kiss with the only person who had ever mattered, and him, as always, fucking everything up.

After the fallout, it had been weeks of torture, watching her but unable to come near her. He wanted it to be on her terms; he had been the one to destroy them, after all.

When he graduated high school and she still hadn't spoken to him, the anger appeared. He spent the majority of his summer abroad with his best friend trying to fuck the idea of her out of his mind. From city to city he made his way into the beds of women only to find that they all had one thing in common: no matter what they looked like, no matter how beautiful or fun or charming they had been, the moment he closed his eyes all he saw was her.

Poe then suggested he drink her off of his mind instead, but it just made everything worse.

Once in college, the idea that she was on this small and isolated campus with him struck him with dread and anticipation. He hadn’t seen her since graduation, watching her walk across the stage, the sun a pale imitation of the light radiating out of her.

He spent weeks trying to find her, looking in the few libraries on campus, the coffee shops, the dining halls, but failed to catch even a glimpse.

It’s been two years, and to him she's somewhat of a ghost: unable to be seen, but haunting his every thought.

He drags his hand through his hair, tugging slightly to bring him out of his thoughts. He checks his watch, muttering a curse when he realizes he only has 10 minutes to run across campus. With cheeks flushed and him out of breath, he sinks into a seat in the lecture call for his Architectural Theory class. As he half listens to his professor drone on about Sebastian Serlio, he wonders what Rey is doing right now.

Thinking of her name, something he rarely allows, feels like a glass shard slicing his heart. He winces at the pain.

He also wonders why after all this time, the wound still feels so fresh.


	2. chapter two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from now on the beginning of every chapter starts with a memory.  
> enjoy :)

**5 years earlier...**

“I look stupid,” Rey whines, pouting at herself in the mirror.

Ben rolls his eyes behind her, fixing his tie. “You don’t look stupid.” He catches her stare in the mirror, her _give me a break_ face clear as day. “Why do you think you look stupid?”

“Because I look _stupid_! It’s this dress, the ridiculous _poofiness_ of it all, the weird color, the odd length. It’s the makeup Rose did—,” to which an offended _hey_ is heard in the background, “—which looks _great_ because Rose did an _amazing_ job but on me it looks _ostentatious_ , and I just hate myself and I hate that I said yes to this and is it too late to back out?”

She’s hyperventilating before Ben can move in front of her, gripping the tops of her arms firmly. “One, you don’t look stupid. Two, the dress is fine. Three, the makeup is barely a step up from natural. Four, it is _far_ too late to back out of this, Jacen is already on his way.”

She huffs out a sigh, wiggling out of his grip and turning from side to side to look in the mirror. It isn’t the first time Ben has seen her in a dress, far from it, but something about this moment, something about her not wearing it for some formal family event but for someone _else_ , some other _boy_ , causes a strange lump in his throat. He slips a finger underneath the collar of his shirt, feeling claustrophobic suddenly.

Rey looks over her shoulder at him, catching his eye. He’s struck at once by the sheer strength of the trust, love, and desperation in her eyes, his heart thumping in double time.

He doesn’t know what’s happening to him, only knowing that he wants it to stop. He repeats in his head over and over, _Rey is our person. We can’t feel this way about our person, because if we do, they will leave. She_ cannot _leave._

The mantra quiets the roaring in his ears, the panic that felt like it had been raging for hours but had only existed between one breath and the next.

“Do I really look alright?” She questions, him noticing her struggle to overcome her nervous tic of nail biting, at least for the night. He looks down at her trembling hands, her tapping each fingertip against the pad of her thumb, her nails painted a hue similar to the blue of the dress.

_She_ cannot _leave._

He smiles a tight smile. “You look perfect.”

_______________________________________

He wishes he were anywhere else.

Somehow, Finn convinces Ben to go to a social on campus. It’s not as if he’s never been to one before: in his freshman year he used to frequent them regularly, hoping to see her face. It’s just since coming to terms that he will probably never see her again, even though they live within the same sphere, he prefers to skip out on the inevitable disappointment and emptiness.

This time, though, Finn pleads. “Come on mate, you know I never ask you for anything. This hot guy from my drafting class is going to be there, and I need backup. I need my wingman.”

He grumbles, grabbing his wallet out of his back pocket to pay for his lunch, but Finn just smiles.

“I knew I could count on you. I’ll meet you at 8 in front of Netal Hall.” He pats Ben twice on the arm, excitement pouring out of him as he races away towards his next class.

Finn had been the first friend he’d made on campus. They had been assigned to the same residential hall, two singles right next to each other. They had started out just as dining hall buddies, someone to eat with so you didn’t look like a weirdo eating alone. Slowly, they made their way down the path towards friendship, and without Ben realizing it, he had once again let someone in that he couldn’t imagine parting with.

He wonders if he’ll ever learn from his mistakes.

His classes are over for the day, so he drops his wrapped sandwich into his book bag and makes the trek back to his home. As he passes through one of the courtyards, he sees a girl walking in the opposite direction as him that makes him stop in his tracks.

His palms are instantly sweaty, he’s lost the ability to breathe, but the moment the girl turns and her face is all wrong, missing all the bits and parts that he’s always searching for, his body goes cold. He takes a gasping breath, clutching the edges of his jacket to ground him where he stands.

_It wasn’t her_ , he says to himself. _It never is._

He rushes to the safety he finds behind his front door, his appetite nonexistent. He tosses the sandwich in the fridge, sets his book bag down on the counter, and heads straight to his bed. He crashes onto his pillow, and between one blink and the next, the sun has disappeared. His clock reads 7:15pm as he groans, dragging himself out of bed.

He hears the storm more than sees it outside, hoping Eugene, his part-time employee, has a handle on the light tonight.

Not wanting to show up in his wrinkled clothes from the day, he grabs a pair of black pants and a black sweater from his closet as he makes his way to the bathroom. His hair is a mess, but he knows walking in the chaotic weather outside will just undo whatever he does, so he quickly changes his clothes, brushes his teeth, and decides he looks fine enough to be a wingman to Finn.

The wind outside chills him to the bone, almost icy in its relentlessness, as he makes his way to Netal Hall. He sees Finn in the eaves of the building, his hands rubbing up and down his arms.

“Fucking freezing my balls off,” Finn mutters, pushing off from the wall as Ben approaches. They’re quiet as they make their way to the rec center, the music softly combating against the sound of the wind the closer they get.

When they enter, Ben realizes what a horrible mistake he’s made. It’s packed to the brim, the warmth of the bodies alone making a joke out of the weather outside. Any year can come to the mixers, so the room is mostly filled with freshman desperate to make connections at their isolated college.

Ben gets it; he had been slightly worried about the idea of having nobody for four years out in the middle of nowhere on the tip of Victoria Island. He’d been lucky with Finn; he knew others weren’t.

Finn grabs the sleeve of Ben’s jacket and drags him over towards the expanding windows along the back of the room. Someone’s talking to him, introducing themselves, but all Ben can think of is how much he wishes the windows opened to let some air in.

A smack to the shoulder brings him out of his daydream. “ _Ben_ , this is Mit, one of my classmates from drafting.”

“Oh, hey man.” He shakes Mit’s hand, remembering that _this_ was the reason he was here in the first place. _Backup. Wingman. Right._

They’re all majoring in difficult, math-heavy majors, Finn and Mit in Engineering, Ben in Architecture, so they have plenty to talk about. Ben would never admit it, but after a while he realizes that he’s having an okay time, that maybe these socials aren’t as bad as he remembers.

The two boys start into a deeper discussion, something outside his realm, and he finds himself backing away slowly. Finn shifts his eyes to Ben for a split second, winking to let him know _you can go now, thank you_. Ben gives a short smile and starts to head back in the direction of the exit.

He hears a laugh that stops him in place, makes his ears ring louder than the din of the room, his heart ricochet painfully off his ribs. He turns his head slowly, as if any quick movements might scare whatever’s to the left of him away.

The first time he sees her again it feels like his heart is breaking over and over with no end in sight. Her hair is longer than she used to have it in high school and her outfit is a bit tighter than anything she would’ve worn, but the moment she smiles and he sees her dimples his vision goes white.

He moves faster than he thought possible, taking refuge behind a potted tree that leans against the windows. He’s being ridiculous, he _knows_ he’s being ridiculous, but the panic swelling inside of him at her presence keeps him in hiding. He’d spent so much time thinking about the next time he saw her, dreaming about the moment their eyes locked for the first time in so long, and yet he never considered what happened _after_ that moment. Hadn’t considered that invisible string that tied them together would incessantly _pull_ , as if no time had stretched between them. It took everything in him to stay behind the tree, not to gravitate towards her, stand by her side.

Though he knows he could be caught at any second, he can’t seem to keep his eyes off her moving about the room, so comfortable in this setting. It unsettles him, the fluidity of her movements, the ease she clearly feels being in this room full of strangers. His mind flashes back to teenage Rey, who would rather do anything than be social. Whose happy places were quiet art museums, her studio at home, their fort out in his backyard.

She talks to every person she passes by, smiling and laughing with them. He wonders if she knows all of these people, if they all were new friends she made after him. They’d had other friends growing up, but in the weeks leading up to graduation everyone had distanced themselves from them both, as if the implosion of the inseparable _Ben and Rey_ caused more casualties than just the two.

He thinks back on his time since the incident, how that one moment had changed him from the easy going boy he’d been to the colder, distant man he is now. He wonders if she had been successful at what Ben had tried so hard to do, to forget their connection ever existed. If that was how she could smile and light up a room so easily, unbothered by the loss that continuously drowned him.

He’s happy she seems happy. He _is._

At least that’s what he tells himself before she gravitates towards a boy with red hair and a black sweatshirt on, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. The pain is immense and thick, almost doubling him over. He grips the trunk of the tree, feeling as if he could snap it in two. She squeezes the other boy’s arm, whispering something in his ear before moving, heading towards the bar.

He doesn’t think before moving, following the path she cuts through the crowd. She orders something, the blood pulsing in his ears so loud he can’t quite hear over it, and as she leans against the brass pole that lines the edge of the bar he hears himself say her name before the thought to do it passes through his mind.

She turns, a soft smile on her face.

That is, until she sees who called for her.


End file.
